She stared at the blank paper before her
As if it symbolized her barren life.
What was her role in this upside down world?
Why was she life's personal punching bag?
She felt the cold wind blow on her whist face.
What unknown satisfaction lies within?
She wondered about her battered essence.
Would a dent stand long after her absence?
She heard the pitter patter of the rain
And felt an icy, pearly drop pat her
As if it had come from a long journey
And had arrived safely home.
She lifted her eyes up to the sere sky,
She was a reject right? A mistake.
With her ending to be planned, who was she?